


By Land or By Sea

by bliumchik



Category: Hornblower (TV), Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bliumchik/pseuds/bliumchik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lieutenant Bush contemplates Horatio Hornblower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Land or By Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lost_constant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_constant/gifts).



The wind was picking up – not enough to alter sail just yet, Bush noted, but enough to raise choppier waves that buffeted the small boat in which Hornblower, a trifle green, was returning from a dinner with the Admiral. As he clambered aboard the ship, he gave Bush a nod, but went straight to his cabin, trusting that Bush had matters well in hand on deck. The warm feeling that filled Bush’s belly at that thought was pleasant, and the undercurrent of possessiveness, of things set right now Hornblower was back aboard the Hotspur where he belonged, was surely down to Bush’s last six hours spent on his feet and eighteen awake. He was not usually given to such sentiment, he told himself sternly.

After all, on land, Hornblower was Maria’s, and at sea he was the Crown’s. The exigencies of service to which both Hornblower and Bush were accustomed to meant the possibility of separation at a moment’s notice, whether at the hands of the enemy or the Admiralty. It was foolish to feel any sort of claim of ownership over the man. The loyalty Bush felt for Hornblower was simply that which any man might feel for a worthy colleague and a competent, no, inspired commander.

So where, then, did these damned shocks of feeling come from, when they brushed against each other in close quarters belowdecks, or when he looked at Hornblower standing with his face to the wind and his arms clasped behind his back, his clothing rumpled from a sudden call to duty? They were not quite ordinary lust, such as he might experience on shore leave in the company of a feisty Kingston girl, or during midshipmanly fumblings stolen in dark quarters to relieve a youthful exuberance. But they were certainly kin to that feeling, as Bush was uncomfortably aware of when he had need to readjust his trousers without drawing attention to himself.

Perhaps it was simply that, unlike his fellows years ago in the midshipmen’s berth or those shore leave girls, he could neither do anything about his feelings for Hornblower nor leave him behind – Captain Hornblower certainly favoured him as a lieutenant, and Bush would never hurt him by refusing an appointment, nevermind the likely effects on his career. It was probably like courting – Bush had shipped to sea early in his life, and had never spent this much time with a woman who wasn’t one of his sisters, but perhaps the effect was similar.

Well, Bush was accustomed to his duty placing him in situations dangerous, tedious or otherwise unpleasant. This was nothing, really. There weren’t even too many opportunities to slip up and give himself away – his duties and Hornblower’s were like clockwork, and ninety-nine days out of a hundred they had no more freedom than a midshipman. Now, for instance, the clockwork of the ship sent Cargill to replace him as officer of the watch. Bush swept a quick eye over the deck, and, satisfied he was leaving it in order, started for his quarters to get some much-needed rest.

“Passing the word for Lieutenant Bush!” 

Not just yet, then. Hornblower had called him into his cabin. Undoubtedly, some aspect of his orders from the Admiral called for Bush’s tactical input.

Hornblower was moving with that particular certainty he always took on after a few toasts, as though doublechecking where he was putting each limb, but also buzzing with barely-held-back excitement over his latest idea. He’d been writing when Bush knocked on the door, and then he stood to usher him in, nearly knocking his head on the cabin ceiling. 

“There you are, Bush, come have a look at this and tell me if you think we can pull it off. It’ll call for a bit of carpentry on the fly.”

The prospect of action pulled him out of his stupor – as did proximity to Hornblower, of course, which he carefully avoided thinking about. Hornblower's newest idea for stymieing the French involved deceiving the ships waiting to escape from Brest as to the number and category of the ships of the Inshore Squadron, and thus called for the Hotspur to be perceived as several different ships within a relatively short period of time. He questioned Bush rapidly on certain technical capacities of the ship, and over the course of an hour they hammered out a workable strategy hinging on her speed and, crucially, her crew’s ability to function as a single organism, perfected after months of long drills to the point where this tricky manoeuvre could be carried out at speed and without alerting the enemy that anything unusual was going on.

“I think we can do it, by God,” said Bush, hoarsely.

Hornblower grinned at him from across the table, one of those rare, colossal grins Bush missed from their days as lieutenants together, and just at that moment he could barely stand it. Surely his captain, his keen-eyed captain who seemed able to spy every crack in an enemy’s defenses like breathing, could see right through him? Could solve him like a trigonometric exercise, only instead of determining their latitude and longitude by leaping over a maze Bush himself had to plod through methodically he would triangulate exactly Bush’s mess of feelings towards him? He realised suddenly that he had sat there without speaking for several seconds longer than he should, and that Hornblower was looking worried.

“You’re tired,” he said. “I’m sorry, I’ve kept you up.”

“No, no,” said Bush, waving a hand, suddenly dejected. Of course Hornblower couldn’t see it. If he could, what on earth would he do differently?

“This could have waited for the morning,” Hornblower said, looking furious with himself.

“It’s not the first time a rash idea of yours has robbed me of sleep,” said Bush, rubbing his eyes. “Remember Santo Domingo? We didn’t sleep for three days straight, and it didn’t stop us seeing the Dons out of there right smart.”

“That was an emergency,” said Hornblower, standing up and trying to usher Bush out of his chair. “It was made necessary by circumstance. I’ve no excuse this time. Go on, get some sleep. That’s an order,” he added, mock-sternly.

Bush couldn’t help but smile at that, and heaved his weary body up and towards the cabin door. He’d never dream of disobeying an order. If pressed, he would insist he didn't dream of anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, LC, I thought I was writing you some porn, but it turned out I was writing you some pine. Tis the season?  
> Thanks very much to Aris for the beta!


End file.
